


Brendon Urie, Blowjobs, And Translyvanian Frat Boys

by Ourladyofresurrection



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: 30 Day Frerard Smut Challenge, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, My Chemical Romance References, Teacher Frank Iero, Teacher Gerard Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourladyofresurrection/pseuds/Ourladyofresurrection
Summary: At Belleville highschool, there lived few legends as strong as Brendon Urie, and his legacy of drinking thirteen Capri Suns straight in ten minutes on a dare and then proceeding to throw up on Pete Wentz, getting banned from the cafeteria forever, because stealing the kitchen's supply of Capri Suns was an unforgivable misdemeanour.There was only one school-wide legend that rivalled Brendon and the Infamous Capri Sun Wentz Puking Incident Of '03, and that was the chemistry between Mr. Way and Mr. Iero.A teacher x teacher Frerard oneshot. Fluff and smut.





	Brendon Urie, Blowjobs, And Translyvanian Frat Boys

Fluff/Smut/Crack

Fluff meter: 💛💛💛💛  
Smut meter: 💚💚💚💚

At Belleville highschool, there lived few legends as strong as Brendon Urie, and his legacy of drinking thirteen Capri Suns straight in ten minutes on a dare and then proceeding to throw up on Pete Wentz, getting banned from the cafeteria forever, because stealing the kitchen's supply of Capri Suns was an unforgivable misdemeanour.

There was only one school-wide legend that rivalled Brendon and the Infamous Capri Sun Wentz Puking Incident Of '03, and that was the chemistry between Mr. Way and Mr. Iero.

Mr. Way was an art teacher; sassy, groomed, and possessing an ass that's to die for. His hair was always gelled back in a quiff, or at least since he got a permanent teaching job with the school board and opted for a more polished look, but when he hunched over his sketchbook, little strands would fall stubbornly in his face. He was always nursing an extra large coffee in his hands, and a cigarette from the side of his mouth during his break when he thought the students weren't looking .

Mr. Iero was the favourite art teacher of the whole school's population; sarcastic, a 5'6 power-pack, and widely regarded as the coolest teacher at Belleville. Maybe all of the kids just liked him because of that time he told Pete Wentz that he looked like a deranged raccoon who had been stricken with rabies. 

To be fair, Pete had been going through a really unfortunate thick black eyeliner phase, and frequently did what was supposed to be a 'sexy' growl pose on his MySpace selfies, and well, word gets around. Even worse. at the same time he cut his bangs all choppy with dull kitchen scissors, (probably stolen along with the Capri Suns), and Belleville was going through a rabies epidemic at the time, so it was a genuine concern.

Between that epic roast and the billions of tattoos that were visible on his knuckles and through the shirt sleeves of his white dress shirt, Mr. Iero was definitely cool. Totally as cool as Mr. Way, and that's why they would be perfect together.

Or at least that's what Brendon was insisting to Pete and Patrick for the billionth time.

"I'm telling you, they're totally gay for each other, mark my fucking words," Brendon enthused, sipping his Capri Sun.

They sat on the classroom desks trashed with pencil graffiti of badly-drawn dicks and MySpace usernames—not to mention the gum stuck under the desks, which Patrick was intent on avoiding—watching Mr. Way and Mr. Iero smoke outside.

They leaned against the window, oblivious to the fact three teenage boys were discussing their apparently 'blatant' homosexual tendencies between each other. Gerard pulled the cigarette from his lips, dangling it between his pointer and middle finger, tilting his jaw up slightly and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

"I'm not really seeing it, Bren. And don't you have bigger issues? This is like the third Capri Sun I've seen you drink today. Why don't you drink something else for once? Like milk, or don't know, water," Patrick protested, pouting.

Brendon turned his nose up, "Nah, milk is fuckin nasty, man. I don't know why, but it gives me bad vibes."

"Traumatic experience?" Pete joked.

"Oh, fuck you, I'll beat you up, you twink."

"Not with those brittle bones you won't. I could twist your arm and you'd snap like a KitKat."

“Need a break?” Brendon retorted back, squaring up.

“Alright, alright,” Patrick mediated.

Looking at him murderously, Brendon stuck his tongue out and defiantly sipped his aluminum pouch of sugar and artificial flavouring, turning his attention back to the window.

Mr. Iero was laughing at something Mr. Way had said, a smoke ring blowing expertly out of his nose. At first, Brendon had thought it was intentional, but judging by both of their dumbstruck expressions, he quickly figured it wasn't. 

As if on cue, their wide eyed looks faltered as they collapsed into giggles, Mr. Iero dropping his cigarette on the rain-wet tarmac.

"Aw, come on, that's just cute," Brendon drawled, elbowing Pete.

"Maybe they're just friends," Patrick mused aloud softly, deflecting Brendon's bold accusations once again.

After Mr. Iero jokingly told off Mr. Way for making him drop what appeared to be his last smoke, Mr. Way cheekily held out his own, offering to share.

"No fucking Way," Pete gasped beside him.

"You were saying, Pattycakes?" Brendon snorted to an obviously startled Patrick, who was gaping at the sight before them. 

Mr. Iero plucked the cig from his hands, inhaling a steady stream of smoke and then blowing it into the air, mimicking Mr. Way's actions earlier. He then cocked an eyebrow, passing it back to the art teacher, a crooked grin shared between them. Mr. Way rested it back between his lips, nursing it between his palms as he flicked his pocket lighter deftly between his long artist fingers, relighting the flame that threatened to go out against the damp winds that foretold a storm coming.

"That's like...an indirect kiss!" Pete gasped.

"Oh man, they are totally eye-fucking each other," Brendon rolled his eyes, "that's it— I'm setting these two losers up."

He jumped off the desk swiftly, Patrick at his heels, eyes wide and mind apparently full of questions.

"What are you going to do Brendon?" he squeaked.

"Get them to fuck each other, duh," Brendon shrugged, walking out the door.

Pete slid off the desk, following his lead, "I'm fucking in."

"Brendon, are you really sure this is the best idea?" Patrick pleaded, his protests falling on deaf ears.

"A grand Urie scheme? I gotta see this," Pete slapped Brendon on the back, "just try not to throw up on me this time, okay, dude?"

Brendon grinned, "No promises, Wentz."

And with that, they set off to put their plan into motion.

                                       * * *

The plan was ingenious, or at least in Brendon's mind it was. To be fair, the two of the group were slightly stoned, but it was a foolproof plan, they promised.

They waited for the two to finish their smoke break, strolling into the art room with two steaming cups of coffee, conversing casually, and then Brendon struck.

He closed the door behind them, locking it from the outside with a quick slide of a quarter in the lock, grinning triumphantly as he heard the familiar click. 

"What now?" Patrick piped up, wringing his hands and glancing down the hall nervously.

"Now we wait," Brendon smiled.

                                       * * *

"Oh my God, did Brendon Urie just lock us in here?" Mr. Iero, or rather, Frank, asked.

Gerard jiggled the door handle, his sigh dissolving into a laugh when he realized that it was, in fact, locked.

Frank threw his hands up, striding over to Gerard's desk, clearing off a few of his things before sitting down on it, swinging his legs absentmindedly.

"Brendon Urie and his great schemes," Gerard scoffed, "think this beats the Capri Sun incident?"

Frank giggled, "Hardly. That was iconic."

"Mhmmm, like that time you bullied poor Pete Wentz?"

Frank frowned, crossing his arms, "Okay, that was not bullying. For that to be bullying, it would have to be a repeated offence, that was a one time thing."

Gerard cocked his eyebrow, "So, you're into one time things, huh, Iero?"

"What's it to you, Way?" Frank scoffed.

"Charming," Gerard smirked, going over to the other side of his desk, opening up a file cabinet in search of the key that unlocked the door from the side they were stuck on.

"Why am I not surprised?" he sighed, looking up at a mildly confused Frank, "they took my damn key."

Frank couldn't help but laugh at his unamused expression, snorting a bit. Gerard frowned at him.

"Sorry, Way. But this is why you have to scare 'em a bit, you know?" Frank advised, making a slight whacking motion with his hand, "crack the whip a little."

"Well, I'm sorry, Iero, but the position of tormenting Pete Wentz had already been filled," Gerard rolled his eyes, voice muffled from his face being stuck in a cabinet.

"He wore a hoodie pulled closed over his face for weeks after that," Frank howled, slapping his legs, "it was amazing."

Gerard stood up, wiping his palms on his dress pants, "You're just a fucking bully," he said, smirking.

"Hey, I won't argue that," Frank shrugged, "hey...where's the spare key? I have class in like twenty minutes, and would rather not have to sit in Mr. Way's class listening to him talk about colour theory or some shit."

Gerard rolled his eyes, "I was just looking for it, dumbass, and I guess Brendon Urie was pretty fucking thorough, because he found that too."

Frank scoffed.

"I'm just wondering how many times he would have had to have broken into my cabinets to know where I store the keys."

"Maybe he was stealing the condoms you keep in there," Frank said seriously, sipping his coffee.

"I do not fucking keep condoms in my desk, asswipe."

"Mhmmm, sure," Frank murmured teasingly.

Gerard sighed, taking a long sip of his coffee. He was gonna need it at this rate. 

Outside the door, Pete looked over at Brendon doubtfully, "Bren, they've been talking for like ten minutes, I don't think this will work."

"Just wait," Brendon assured him.

"Well, the best we can hope for is that once the kids come to class and find the door locked, they'll try to pick the lock or get the janitor to free us."

Frank laughed, "Gerard, don't get me wrong, that's adorable, but your students aren't that desperate to hear you talk about Dadaism. They'll probably just skip."

Gerard frowned, "They're good kids, Frank."

"Well, I guess this gives us extra time."

"Extra time for what?" Gerard cocked his head.

"For this," Frank said, leaning forward and reeling Gerard in with a quick tug to his tie, connecting their lips together.

Outside the door, Brendon let out an inhuman noise, "I'm sorry, what were you saying, Wentz?"

Patrick covered his eyes with his hands while Pete and Brendon watched like the perverts they are.

Frank wrapped his legs around Gerard's waist as Gerard deepened the kiss, Frank running a hand through his hair. They were really getting into it now, and Patrick was more than slightly uncomfortable, the other two also uncomfortable, but for vastly different reasons.

"Come on, guys," Patrick urged them, "we got what we wanted, now let's leave!"

"Oh, fuck no, I'm not missing out on witnessing the impending blowjob," Brendon replied enthusiastically, looking like he should have a bowl of popcorn in his hands.

"Either we're gonna get caught or we'll get them caught by attracting attention," Patrick reasoned, tugging at Pete's hand.

"Fine, fine, you cute little midget," Pete sighed, pulling a poster off an adjacent wall and sticking it over the small window on the door, blocking out the view from any passerbyers.

"Man, Mr. Way better give me an 'A' for saving his ass like this," Pete scoffed, "come on, Brendon."

Brendon could be head protesting as Pete dragged him away, Patrick happily holding his other hand, still red in the face from what he just witnessed. Pete was pretty sure Patrick had never watched anything above PG-13, which would explain a lot.

Frank groaned when Gerard nipped at his bottom lip, abusing it to a nasty purple-red shade, "Jesus, motherfucker, you trying to devour me whole?" Frank panted, tongue worrying over the bite marks.

"My master plan—foiled," Gerard rolled his eyes, sucking down Frank's throat before stopping at a sweet spot, lips and tongue working over the pale skin expertly, his tiny teeth grazing over the surface in a way that made Frank shiver.

Frank let out a whine as Gerard latched on, suctioning a hickey into place, fingers gently tugging at the short hairs at the nape of Frank's neck.

"G-Gerard you can't do that, someone will see."

Gerard pulled his mouth away, raising his eyebrows up at Frank, "Who?"

Frank frowned, and then it dawned on him. Oh, you kinky motherfucker, "Fine, Mr. Way, kindly unlatch your filthy mouth from my neck so my nosy students don't point out the obvious hickey on my neck."

Gerard didn't listen, nuzzling into his neck with his stupid pointy nose and sucking even harder, as if in an act of rebellion.

"You actual ass, now I'm gonna have to walk around the rest of the day with my collar popped like some kind of frat boy."

"Mhmmm," Gerard murmured against his warm skin, "that's a shame."

He licked a stripe along the hollow of Frank's throat, earning a soft giggle out of him. Gerard raised his eyebrows at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It...tickles," Frank muttered.

Gerard laughed, gently kissing up his neck, "How cute."

Frank groaned, "Oh, fuck you."

He grabbed Frank's tie, pulling on it slightly, leaning in, his breath hot on Frank's ear, "Oh, sugar, I think it's the other way around. If we had more time, I'd bend you over the desk and fuck you right now."

Frank shivered, his dick twitching in his black jeans, "Shut the fuck up and just touch me, will you?"

Gerard smirked against Frank's neck, cradling the back of his head with his palm, and kissing him deeply, running his other hand along his thigh, pulling him in closer. Frank thought it was all pretty sweet until Gerard ground his erection into Frank's lower half, grinning triumphantly when Frank gasped.

He kept doing that, the friction seeming to amplifying each second he rutted against him like that, slow and fucking dirty. Frank was moaning into Gerard's neck where his head rested, panting as his pants grew tighter.

Frank was really fucking starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to get them off at this rate, and if he had to call the paramedics to cut him out of his dick-suffocating jeans, he would definitely be forwarding the hospital bills to Gerard.

Of course the motherfucker was wearing airy dress pants, as if he planned this all. He was mulling over his personal vendetta against Gerard Arthur Way when he pulled away, Frank's eyes travelling down to the very obvious bulge in his pants, Jesus fucking Christ.

"Dude, you're packing," Frank breathed.

Gerard stifled a laugh, and Frank was staring at him completely dumbfounded, glad they weren't going all the way because dear Gods, was it physically possible to even take that?

"Come on, sugar, you gonna let me blow you or what?" 

Frank instantly came to his senses, breathing a, "Yes," embarrassingly fast. Okay, maybe not the suavest move, but Gerard all hot and ready to keel over to blow him? This was something out of his wet dreams.

Gerard kissed him slowly before pulling away just enough to speak, "Yes, who?"

Frank rolled his eyes, but quickly became complacent with a quick tug to his hair, moaning lowly, "Yes, Mr. Way."

Gerard cocked his head, "Try again."

Frank scoured his mind for what the fuck Gerard wanted him to call him, stuttering out a weak, "Sir?"

Gerard smirked, "That's it, sugar."

And with that, he dropped to his knees on the paint-splattered floor, unbuttoning Frank's painfully tight jeans with his skilled fingers.

Frank already felt indebted to him for just that, especially as he managed to shimmy the pants down to his knees, which really, Frank wasn't sure he would be able to do. He almost wanted to yank him up right then and there to make out with him, but then his dick twitched as Gerard's fingers brushed past the seams of his pants and he remembered his priorities.

His boxers followed suit, and then Gerard just looked up at him with these fucking doe eyes, all mock innocent and cute, making Frank's stomach flip. But all notions of Gerard being anywhere near innocent quickly dissipated as his hands wrapped around Frank's length.

Frank groaned as his deft artists' fingers worked their way up and down his cock, relieving some of the pressure that had been situated there for way to long to be comfortable. Of course, the pleasure was promptly stopped as Gerard stopped the motions suddenly.

Frank was about to ask him why, God, why did he stop, when Gerard thumbed over the head teasingly, not speeding up, just glancing up innocently at Frank as his thumb worked over the area painstakingly slow. He circled the tip as Frank moaned, trying to formulate words to tell Gerard to get on with the show already.

"You fucking tease," Frank groaned as he spread Frank's pre-come around the head, smirking to himself. 

Gerard finally caved, giving him one last pump before taking him in his mouth. Frank had been watching Gerard like a hawk, glaring at him, so he could attest to the fact that Gerard took his entire length in one swift movement, not even choking slightly.

"Oh my God," Frank moaned as Gerard's mouth wrapped around him, his legs jutting back and kicking the metal drawers of the desk as a knee-jerk reaction to the sheer pleasure coursing through him.

If Gerard's mouth wasn't full, Frank would've bet he would have had that stupid shit-eating grin on his face, and even right now, the corners of his mouth were stretched up at the corners in a way that looked suspiciously like a smile. But really, it was hard to tell. Frank was significantly more interested in what Gerard's mouth was currently doing.

Shockwaves of pleasure rippled through his body, originating from the lowest depths of his groin, and where Gerard's mouth connected to his body.

He finally managed to will his eyes down, and was met with the fucking sinful sight of Gerard looking at him, pupils blown out and eyelashes fluttering dark against his pale skin, wet lips moving up and down his length like it was the best thing he'd ever done.

Gone were the days Frank would visit Gerard in his art room mid-class to talk about the coffee they so desperately craved and maybe roast a few unfortunate students. Frank really wouldn't be able to resists popping a boner every time he glanced at this desk, or Gerard.

Gerard moaned around his length, as if this was giving him as much pleasure as it was giving Frank. His slender fingers trailed over Frank's milky skin, (I swear to God, if anyone one of you fuckers makes a milk fic reference, I will shank you), the pads of his fingers digging into Frank's thighs, creating little indents in the flesh as he pulled his cock deeper into his mouth.

He whimpered around him, as if Frank couldn't get any more aroused, Jesus Christ, and he gripped Gerard's black locks, guiding his motions. Frank's eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth in a seemingly permanent 'o' shape, head tilted to the heavens.

"Oh my God, sir...ugh, right there, fuck."

Frank almost wanted to pray to God that he could feel this way, well, like always? Maybe not. Being orgasmatic in the middle of class might prove to be problematic. But often at least. 

And then he looked at Gerard's blissed out face, drool running down the side of his mouth, his soundtrack seemingly stuck on 'whore mode,' and he figured he'd already strayed way too far from God's light to ask for help now.

Frank's mouth spewed a steady stream of curses and choked moans, his grip on Gerard's hair deadly to scalps everywhere, his thrusts stuttering weakly. 

"S-sir, I'm gonna cum," Frank moaned, giving Gerard's hair a warning tug.

Gerard just slid back, jerking him off stubbornly until Frank gripped the desk with one hand, knocking off bunch of papers in the process, fingers entwined in Gerard's hair, head thrown back as he gasped brokenly before releasing in Gerard's mouth.

Gerard moaned, swallowing the hot white fluid, tongue licking up the last of the remains as Frank panted, body shaking from aftershocks, mind fuzzy with afterglow.

"Gerard...sir. That was fucking hot, oh my God," Frank all but whined.

Gerard shakily stood up, a satisfied smirk on his face, "Oh, I know, sugar."

Frank's eyes flitted down to Gerard's obscene boner, practically making a prison break out of his dress pants. 

"Is that a paintbrush in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Frank cracked weakly, still looking at Gerard like he hung the moon and stars, a bit awestruck.

"Oh, shut up, Iero," Gerard snorted.

Frank shuffled his pants up, tugging Gerard in closer with his tie so that Gerard's lower half was flush against his own. Frank kissed him passionately, hand moving to cup the back of his neck, the other tracing down his chest, slowly moving lower.

Frank took his time with the kiss, much to Gerard's chagrin, lips moving over his sweetly as his tongue explored Gerard's mouth boldly, Frank trying to move him closer than physically possible.

"What was that for?" Gerard laughed as he pulled away, Frank's hand still moving painstakingly slow past his navel.

"You're just cute," Frank said almost dreamily, like some kind of schoolgirl, as if Gerard didn't just suck the soul out of him, and as if Frank didn't just taste all that back.

Gerard braced himself against the desk, hands on either side of Frank's thighs as he laughed, hair falling against Frank's shirt. Frank physically had to restrain himself from running his fingers through his soft strands and pulling him in for a soft kiss.

God, Iero, you're totally whipped, his inner voice bemoaned to him.

"Spoken like a man who just got blown."

Frank frowned, "Shut the fuck up, you dork. Let me help you, dammit."

He yanked Gerard in by his hips, letting him rock his hips into his leg, his erection rubbing against Frank's thigh, Frank kissing him deeply. Gerard's kisses were addictive, he couldn't, and could never get enough. Gerard broke their kiss slightly, tilting his chin up and moaning at the glorious friction. Frank took this opportunity to nip at his neck, being careful not to leave a noticeable mark, mouthing over Gerard's jawline.

Gerard's dick was fully hard against Frank's thigh now, and Frank moaned, "Jesus, Gerard, how fucking big are you?"

"Not that big," he panted between kisses and soft groans.

"If you're average, I must be like, tiny," Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Admitting it is the first step, Frankie," Gerard cracked.

Frank scowled, tugging his tie harshly to choke him slightly, "Pretty bold of a statement for someone who has a raging boner. Want me to just leave you like this? Leaving you to explain to a room full of teenagers why Mr. Way has a boner around a bunch of adolescents? I don't think that would be too good for your reputation, sir."

Gerard groaned, "Okay, okay, I'm fucking sorry. Your dick isn't tiny, just please."

Frank rolled his eyes, "You're lucky you're cute."

Frank licked down his palm, making sure he had Gerard's gaze, and Gerard shuddered in anticipation. Frank hastily unbuckled his belt and slipped his warm hand into Gerard's boxers, wrapping his hand tightly around him.

Gerard moaned instantly, panting against Frank's shoulder. Frank breathed sharply through his nose, working his tattooed hand up and down Gerard unusually large length. 

He tightened his grip near the base and flicked his thumb over the head every second stroke, just how he liked it, and clearly how Gerard liked it too, gauging by his constant shuddering moans.

"Oh my God, Frankie," he whimpered, thrusting into his tight grip desperately, Frank speeding up his motions with a flick of his wrist.

Frank dipped his head down and worked at creating a hickey under his collarbone, suckling at the salty skin, fingers brushing against the underside of Gerard's cock in a way that had him keening over, groaning loudly.

His mouth fell open, biting down on Frank's shoulder as he shook, a guttural, almost animalistic sound resonating in the back of his throat before coming in thick, hot spurts over Frank's tattooed knuckles.

"Fuck, baby," Gerard groaned, collapsing against him.

Frank held him upright with his free hand, blushing slightly as Gerard nuzzled into his neck, practically cuddling him out of exhaustion. Frank seriously needed to shoo him off before his heart busted a metaphorical nut, he couldn't afford to get too sappy, it would ruin his punk rock reputation.

"Alright, you sap, clean yourself up," Frank giggled, pressing a soft kiss to Gerard's hair, hoping he wouldn't notice.

But judging from the way Gerard's lips turned up against his shirt, he knew he had.

Frank handed him a Kleenex, Gerard rolling his eyes and cleaning up, tossing it in the trash beside him.

Gerard eyed the slew of papers that had fallen on the floor in their haste, clucking his tongue, "Jeez Iero, you sure made a mess. It's not like you got your dick sucked on this desk or anything."

Frank scoffed, pulling him into a kiss, "Yeah, totally not. That'd be weird."

"You kink-shaming me, Iero?" Gerard raised his eyebrow, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw absentmindedly.

"Maybe I am, sir."

"Aw, hell," he muttered, Frank giggling up at him, eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, the door clicked, signalling it had been unlocked, but no students entered. 

"Brendon...that fucker," Gerard shook his head, "how much you wanna bet he witnessed that whole thing?"

Frank shook his head, "No way he could last that long. His idea of 'making it last' is like three minutes, tops."

Gerard shot him a questioning glance, an amused smile playing at his lips.

"What?" Frank said self consciously, "word gets around."

Gerard laughed, patting his back, that Iero was certainly something.

                                       * * *

"Do I look presentable?" Frank asked, standing in front of Gerard, looking like a preppy Transylvanian.

"Like you didn't just get fucked on that desk?" Gerard asked, "no. But I'm a bit biased."

He grabbed Frank's hips, pulling him in and tilting his chin up, murmuring, "Your orgasm face is gonna be etched in my memory forever."

Frank giggled, making it hard for Gerard not to laugh, because Frank sounded so fucking funny when he did that, "And who said romance is dead?"

"Awe, come on baby, you look perfectly frat-boy-ish with that popped collar."

"Dope," Frank said in the deepest voice he could muster, awkwardly throwing his hands up in what looked like a cross between a 'rock on' sign and a gang symbol. 

They both glanced at each other a minute before bursting into giggles. Gerard smacked Frank's ass, "Get to class, idiot."

"Make me," Frank challenged, a smile playing at his face as he squeezed Gerard tighter.

"Don't tempt me Iero. We're not teenagers anymore, we'll break a hip fucking within that close intervals."

Frank snorted, "You mean you'll break a hip, old man."

"Hey! Thirty is the new twenty!" Gerard said defensively.

"Yeah, for trees," Frankie giggled.

Gerard unlatched his arms from Frank, playfully pushing him towards the door, "Alright, scram, you ass."

He shook his head, laughing as Frank stuck his tongue out and hurried to his class.  
         
                                      * * *

Later that Friday afternoon, Gerard had packed up his stuff, and was walking out the class and into the halls in his peacoat, ready to grab some pizza on the way home and binge-watch horror movies until he passed out, when Brendon Urie turned the corner, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hey, Mr. Way, you seem happy," he cracked.

"I am," Gerard grinned, 

"Good day?" 

"Oh yeah."

Brendon smirked to himself and went to reach for the door before Gerard stopped him by throwing one arm over it.

"Oh, and Brendon? Thanks for giving me the opportunity to blow Mr. Iero today. I asked him out last week, but it's the thought that counts."

He smiles, patting a dumbstruck Brendon on the shoulder before walking out, seeing Frank leaning against the front of his car, smiling as Gerard pulled him in for a quick kiss, the two of the getting in the car before pulling out of the parking lot together.

Brendon fumbled clumsily for his phone, dialling a number hastily.

"Pete, man, you're not gonna fucking believe what just happened—"

The end!

xø


End file.
